But no, It's not ok

The other week, my supervisor came to my desk and told me, "That's why I hired you." "You're Filipino, right?" she asked. She hired me because of my color and how good that might look in the office. I work hard. I have great work ethics. I am loyal. I have experience. There are so many better reasons she should have hired me for besides my color.

A couple of days ago, I went to her office and told her about a computer problem. She went into the hall way and shouted "Our student workers are useless and don't know anything." She ignored me for the next two days. Today, she told me I was doing a great job.

My heart feels betrayed. My color?

last week, when I turned in my application as a student worker to the student employment office, the lady in charge and I talked briefly. Before I was about to leave she stopped me, "Are you sure you're allowed to work? Did you check that?" I looked at her, thinking I knew what she meant. "Yea, we made sure. The handbook says I can work 16 additional hours with the undergraduate assistanceship." She said, "No, are you sure you're legal to work since you're not a citizen?" My eyes widened, "I'm American." She double checked my forms. "I'm sorry I thought I saw it marked not USA citizen" my lips make a smile and I walk towards the door. My mouth makes a chuckle and words come out, "It's okay, you're not the first person to say that to me."

Uncompromised

Recently, I had dinner with some girls from the international student bible study, my new friends this semester. Over dinner, we went around the table talking about our ideal guys, haha. Typical. And at the end, when they got to me, I said,

"Hopefully the guy is taller than me by several inches, given that I'm super short and that shouldn't be too difficult. But most important, whoever he be, he must love God more than he loves me. He should be hardworking. He can make me laugh. He has a heart for people and loves international students."

And we went into a long conversation about why Christians want to date/marry Christians, and how that was unfair in their eyes. We talked about these things we looked for in our 'partner' as if our lists were judgement on all the men of the world.  When I said that the male leaders in our international ministry probably look for Christian women in marriage, I could easily sense that this brought an unsettled atmosphere to our table. ...But how could religion not be a big deal? Religion can play into polygamy, into domestic abuse, into mutilation

reflecting just now.. it's not about what I care most about him, it's about what I care most about myself and about my life.

What I mean:

International students have become a source of life for me. If he doesn't love international students, there is a whole chunk of me that he would never know, never understand. So how could he even begin to love me entirely, when there is so much about me that he is unable to see?

I care most about God. God is my life. He is my everyday, my every moment. If he doesn't know God, know Jesus, that is my life that he would never know, never understand. So how could he even begin to love me, if this is all of me, and he is unable to see?

So, I continually want God. I continually choose God. I will never change my heart about that.

I say I look for those things in a 'partner' because I don't want those things in me and about me to ever go away. God is not a debate for my life. I will not compromise God.

Some might say they prefer someone who loves dancing, running, or singing, who lives in a certain part of the world, or makes a certain amount of wealth. It's looking at our own lives, thinking  "who am I and what about who-I-am do I care about the most"

DISCLAIMER: I do not support the idea of marriage as being a calling, or singleness as a calling. You don't have to be called by God to be single. It is not a disease. God wants us to be faithful in everyday. We are not incomplete until we are married. We are complete when we proclaim Jesus as lord over our lives, and when we say that, we're saying, 'nothing else but Jesus.'

I just called my high school about a small issue about AP Credits for the lab section of chemistry. I think I spoke with Ms. Nakyama and then they transferred me to Mr. Paulsen. I stuttered and forgot how to breath. He probably didn't remember me, but he spoke as if he did. I imagined his office in that small library. And I thought of where I'm at right now and I was probably going to cry if we didn't end the conversation then. "What school are you attending? How are things?" "I go to SIU. I just changed my major." And I wanted to cry. I feel like I have so little to show. It's been over two years and I've accomplished nothing.

A Rant: Because I can't promise you life

The thought replaying in my mind that from the very moment I was born, I was a failure in everyone's eyes. No, the moment the doctor said, "It's a girl." I was a failure. The moment my mother realized she was pregnant with me, I was her failure.

Almost every weekend that I was home so far, Kelly has been back and she took me away to places all the time and we barely spent much time at home. I felt guilty for abandoning my parents. Now that she left and I have a day and a half left, to just me and my parents.. there is just endless bickering from the moment I wake to the ever-so-real right now. Bickering. Bickering.

Thoughts.

I asked my mom if she was worried that I've never dated yet. She said yes of course, because every parent wants to see their children fulfill their ultimate mission, having children.

And thoughts.

My dad just asked me if I knew which major I was changing into yet. I said I was staying in social work. He asked what if I wanted to learn something else. I said then I'll learn it if I don't like social work.

Out of the group of us 1st generation kids who grew up together on the same block, my two cousins, my sister, and myself.. I went from being the one who showed questionable to extraordinary potential for success. I never planned past my high school achievements. If I did plan for college, I would have stuck with a sport. I would have taken AP Physics. I would have joined band. I would've taken that summer of math classes to match my peers in their advanced arithmetic. I would have joined theater. I would have applied myself more for AP Chem and I would have gotten a 5 instead of a 4 on the credits exam. I would have been more ambitious. That is all if I planned my idolatry a little bit farther.

Thoughts.

Of everyone in my graduating class in middle school, no one, not a single soul would have guessed that I would fail in life. Of everyone in my high school who knew me, none would've doubted my deserved-ness of being a student there, one of the top in the state and in the country.

My sister who will become a successful physical therapist. My future brother who will do great no matter where he goes as an urban planner. My one cousin who will become a great engineer for some big software company. My other cousin who doubted himself, but still was able to find the greater things in life. He has great potential as well and I know it because he is doing what he enjoys and he is faithful to it. But all those things, have they become their identity? at least in the eyes of the people around them?

And me? I assured my dad by saying, "Daddy, I'm a smart girl. I'm going to do great whatever I choose to learn, even if I learn poop" I said it in a confidence like I had a secret where I could turn poop to gold, but that was just a lie I said in attempt to give him ease.

Thoughts

My mom said she can't enjoy a meal if I'm not home. My mom said if neither my sister or I call her, she would go insane. My mom said she hates home when I'm not there. My mom said no one drinks her soup when I'm not home and life is just so bitter. My mom said she can't sleep well at night unless she knows Kelly and I are home with her.

But mama, what if I told you I can't stay?

Please don't live for me, because I can't promise you life.

The one who gives is also the one who takes away.

Please live for Jesus and forget me.

King Jesus, you are victorious!

Wasting Away

Yesterday while I was wasting my thoughts on Netflix, I looked through my clothes. Often when I look through my clothes, I notice that there are so many which I've only worn once or only in the fitting room before I bought them. I tried on some clothes that made me feel very feminine in a pastel and nonchalant-kind-of-way. I quickly changed out of it, deciding that I'll wear it to church the next day. This morning as I excitingly got ready for church, I changed into those clothes I picked out, and as I walked past myself in the mirror, I stopped. And, I felt so ugly and disgusted. I found myself repulsive to look at.

Words like, "What are you thinking? Do you think you look good or something? That doesn't suit you, it can't. Why don't you just wear jeans and a t-shirt? What will people think of you?" And just as I was tugging at the hem of my shirt, ready to lift it over, I looked at myself and thought, "How many times, have I thought these thoughts? How many times have I changed out of clothes because I didn't feel good enough? How many more days will my clothes sit untouched, wasting away in its neatly folded stack? my confidence, wasting away in a crumpled soul? my self-worth, wasting away because of my self-shaming?" And I let go of my shirt, grabbed my bag, and walked out.

still obessed

Today I got a 98% on my econ exam. I feel so embarrassed. I wanted 110%
Two days ago I got a 93% on my anthropology exam. I hated it. I wanted at least 95%
Over the summer when I realized my GPA was 3.7, I contemplated transferring universities so my Flight classes wouldn't transfer over and my GPA would be 4.0

it's not going to matter in heaven.

The idea in the minds of everyone against my choice in social work is that my skill sets are capable of "greater" callings. Most with genuine interest for my well-being warn me that I might starve or come to hate my life after 3-years of a soul-sucking human services career path. "Why are you doing social work? Are you bad at math and science?" my old supervisor said.

Also in my friendships with international students, I learned that for many school systems, students take a big exam and that score determines what major they can do. So if I score very high I can do physics or science, but if I score not so high, I might do arts or language, etc. wow..

Met a Boy Yet?

So I didn't know how awkward of a Facebook status this would've been, but I was home this weekend and near the very end my mom giggily asked me if I met a boy yet. I said no very normally, but I felt startled and perhaps a bit repulsed. I never in my life imagined that my mom would be expecting me to date a guy. Maybe she doesn't want me to end up like my gold-digger cousin or my other cousin who feared old age and spinsterhood and married the first guy that came along. Boys exist in my social sphere. If something was supposed to have happened.. it's he, who hasn't met me yet.

I am not your burden, and You are not mine

If I had a daughter, I would name her Cella [chel-uh] Jiang Paternal Name. I would say to Cella Jiang, "My beautiful daughter. You can be anything and I would always love you. You could be a janitor if you really want. As long as I can feel you are glorifying God with your life, I would support you with mine. I will mop the floors alongside you with my wrinkled hands. All because God is what matters most.

You can attend whichever school, work whatever job, earn how ever much money, because I am not your burden and you are not mine. You are my blessing, and my blessing is to show you how our Father has taught me love."

I just bawled my eyes out at our local grocery store.

Processing

I just came back from InterVarsity (my Christian college fellowship)'s month-long leadership training. I had a lot of hesitations before going, but I don't think I will ever regret that decision. We each had a family group of 6-7 people who are your brothers and sisters and 1-2 who are you parent(s). I never ever thought I would come to love a group so dearly in only a month's time. I've never cried and laughed so hard at the same time in my life than with my family. I've never cried out to God in public as loud as I did in my life than with IVLI (Intervarsity's leadership institute). I've never talked about the topic of masturbation and sex as openly and vulnerably as I experienced this past month.

I think there will always be processing left for IVLI.

to be continued..

Knocked on My Door

Maybe two saturdays ago, Jehovah's witnesses were unleashed onto my neighborhood, haunting all the doors of confused and regretful old Chinese folk.

I read somewhere before, while there are differences within Christianity, we should never have an open debate against another Christian denomination in the presence of non-Christians. And I know better. Faith is great, but the peculiarities drive people mad and sometimes the original intentions can be completely forgotten. Two Saturdays ago, there was a knock at my door. I nonchalantly went to open the door, and noticed the brown-hair-white-skin head through the transom of our door. Door opened. At this point I didn't even think of Jehovah's witnesses. As the Asian lady next to the white lady spoke to me in mandarin, I noticed suited up white men walking down and up my street with a gladness I suppose. When the Asian lady stopped, I told them I spoke English. They said they were here on a community outreach event, a social program. Then they gave me pamphlets and I read "Jehovah's Witnesses" on the papers. "Oh, you're Jehovah's Witnesses".. why didn't they just say so instead of pretending like they're sent from CASL(an actual local non-profit socio-organization) or something. They confirmed that they were JW's. And I said, "well I'm a Christian and I already go to church here in Chinatown." "We're Christians, too!" the white woman flared back as her eyes widened. "Have you ever wondered why there are so many different denominations?" "...yeah" "and which one is the right one?" She opened her bible to educate me

"Day after day in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ. Acts 5:42"

She continued, "Don't you think the ones who follow after Jesus' example as displayed here are the true followers?"

"I'm sure God knows"

"Yes, He does" she snapped back.

"God bless, bye bye now"

Today these two black women came to my door while I was in the bathroom. It was already at least 5 minutes, but they were still there. my dad didn't want to open the door, not because he is shy, but because it's annoying. So we watched them from the window. They finally leave our stoop, and uh-oh.. my uncle was just walking by.. they talk to him for several minutes and gave him papers and got into their van. So they didn't go to any other houses, JUST OURS. and while driving away, I noticed the Asian lady from two weeks ago driving the van. Wow.. just wow.. I really felt like while they talked to me they talked to me as if I was the devil incarnate. Now they sent back-up to come to MY HOUSE, no one else's. I feel lots of things from them-upset, confounded, judged- just not loved like by Christ.

The true example of Jesus-following, I don't necesarily think is knocking on people's doors. Honestly, I think Jesus and his disciples actually got to KNOW the people. They took the time to know their concerns. Those women didn't even give me their names. Maybe they forgot, but I think Jesus lives with and among his people. I think Jesus would be at the bars, the night clubs, the sketchy dunkin donuts, the BP gas stations, the places the "good" people would never go, but would label and discriminate against. He would go to the projects of Chicago, the gang-ridden communities and he would show them love. Maybe that could begin with a piece of paper. But to call other denominations false because I don't knock of people's doors? Are you kidding me? I think God knows. I'm grateful for their faith for God, but I don't know about the method. I know God makes even the worst of situations, even cults, into glory-revealing situations. Ah.. I really don't care for JW's

looking through old high school classmates' news feed on facebook.. just a reminder of capitalist society. everything's a race and I'm losing.. maybe I already lost

Single Eggroll

My aunt asked me if I dated anyone yet in the car-ride home from work. I said no. She asked why. I said it's gross. She asked me if anyone likes me. I said I don't know probably not. She tells me about her co-worker's son. Her co-worker has been creeping on me and wanted her to give me a photo of the son. My aunt was casually asking me if I'd be interested as she described the son's family, age, education, job, wealth.  Hah, I felt disgusting at myself. I hate those things.

ugh.. I hate myself.." I thought.. "Have I succumbed so low to this?" I hate it. I hate it. It's gross. It's disgusting. ew ew ew. it's like someone peed on me or something.

My dad's mom and dad are dead to me. Close enough to forgiveness.

lost in direction

I feel like now that I failed something that was very largely my identity, I don't really have the faith that I can ever complete anything. So everything was a lie? My personal statement. My scholarship papers. My ice breaker answers.

love affair between breeze and bare skin

God is so good to prepare for every little detail. If our distance from the Sun were too little, seas would evaporate, earth would melt; too much, we would freeze like a grape. Even the hairs on our heads are placed to give us proper insulation and protect our cranium from feeling the damage of sun burn.

so beautiful

Just spent a weekend showered with love, attention, great food, cat, and sweet American grandma grandpa.

70x7

I'm not ashamed of my family, my social status, my God, my Jesus, my education, my friends, but I'm ashamed of myself.

I thought I was ashamed that I'm not going to a name brand school, but I'm ashamed that people might think less of me.
I thought I was ashamed of my faith's judgmental stereotype, but I'm ashamed that people might think less of me.
I thought I was ashamed of my crap-metal car whose presence was sounded miles away by its rustic parts, but I'm ashamed that people might think less of me.

God, fix me. Help me care less about what people think

set up for healing. set up for healing. set it up

God puts passion in our hearts and made us each unique.  What is mine, Lord? Kids, social justice, aviation?

"What do you like to do?"

I don't do such things anymore.

Vision

During the Urbana missions conference,  I had a vision in my heart that the name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior was preached on the streets of Chicago Chinatown in the tongue of the Toisan people. That the middle-aged chinamen and near-retirement ah-Pohh's would learn about the love of Jesus even though for the remainder of their lives they'd expect to only know smelly big vans and Chinese-American restaurants of surburbia.

Spread Thin

For a long time I felt like I was half-assing life. What am I doing? For school, for flight, for friendships, for ministry, for God. Paycheck by paycheck, God gives me sufficiency. But for school, I study as last minute as I can, as little as I can. For flight, the same. For ministry, I do only when I'm told to do. I feel like I have no time to invest in friendships. For God and me. I feel God reaching out to me. I do.

I also see a friend who is completely halfassing life, and it reflects it on her grades, in her relationships, in her health, her mood, her energy, her life. I thought I was doing a good job a hiding my halfassingness, but nope, I'm just as bad.  God wants everything, not just halfass. I need to stop

This world has nothing for me (4x)

I need you Jesus come to my rescue
where else can I go?
there's no other name by which I am saved
capture me with grace

my parents bought me a car

I remember on our last night, this small child I played with yesterday gently tapped my shoulder and asked in Spanish, "Chinita, are we playing again later?" Smiling back, "Sorry, we are going to leave tonight" He looked at me pouty faced like he knew despair. i'm sorry kid, for coming and playing with you like I wasn't going to leave

I wish I was seven year old. I wish I was home, pouring tea for my grandpa. I wish I could've told my grandma I loved her. I wish I had treated her better. I miss those bruises on my legs, that bowl cut. I miss running around in the sun. I miss playing in the dirt until it got dark and cold.  I miss my mom and I miss my dad. I miss everyone I love in Chicago. I miss sitting in my dad's car. I miss putting bubble suds on flipped over cups at Ho Luck. I miss it

Nightmare awake

I wonder if this is what's meant to be for the rest of my life, living in white culture, being different, being a minority, being extra sensitive to certain things.

I feel like I'm witnessing a murder in a busy hall and I'm screaming and no one is looking, no one is stopping, no one is responding, no one is doing anything. They don't see it. They claim they can't because they're different. No one sees anything. It's like I'm screaming in an empty room of people. I feel like the one getting murdered. People I know, people I love are just walking by and going on their way. God, right now, at this temporary moment, I hate this people. I hate this people that I am a part of. I hate it. I hate it. How can they

Lord, my heart is pestered, my heart is annoyed, my heart is sad.

There was a girl who said something unintentionally incredibly offensive and racist and so freaking ignorant I wanted to call her out on what the freakin crap bullpoop freak poop she was saying. God, there was so much freakin damn ignorance. But I am no judge. I look back at myself and my transgressions, how can I keep angry? how can I ask for justice? What ignorance for me to speak of justice.

girls. girls. girls. girls. girls. Why, Lord? Why are we this way? So full of ourselves, so ignorant, so obnoxious, so pathetic? Why are we so far from your image?

All the time in the world

If I had all the time in the world, I would write each of my friends a book about how special they were and how loved they were by God. If I had to point at what my heart loves most, it's either babies or trying to take pain away from people. When I was really young I used to think a lot, because I was alone a lot. I used to think about people who were in the hospitals, people in opposite parts of the earth and how they might be hurting right now and at that moment. How one person might be experiencing an unimaginable amount of pain. I didn't know God yet, but I prayed that some of that person's pain could be relieved onto me. Whoever it was, so that the person might hurt less. Then I thought, today might be someone's birthday. Today might be someone's happiest day of life; today might be someone else's most painful day. I prayed that something would help the hurting people. And when I hurt, when I had stomach aches which brought tears to my eyes, I wondered if that was what I had asked. 'Am I relieving someone else's pain?'

Lord, renew my heart and let me overflow with Jesus.

That first time I led worship, oh how desperate they were to have asked me, but still thankful.

PEACE.

This semester. A missions trip. A four month lag to completing a class. A broken car. A desperate search for a third roommate. A lack of work hours

This semester my parents paid for all the remaining of my tuition. My dad just talked to me over the phone yesterday and he wanted to send me money to pay for.. practically the rest of the rent until the lease is over. "Stop it," I said, "You don't have to do that." I recently learned about love languages, and I realize that my parents show love by giving me things and providing for me. They don't give hugs. They don't say nice things. They don't necessarily make dates with us besides for meals. If I take away my need for them, I take away the way they know how to display love for me. Last semester and this semester, I chose hunger before I would ask for help. It's my pride, my worthless pride.

this month

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. ~ James 1:2-3